


High Lonesome Sound

by Sherloqued



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherloqued/pseuds/Sherloqued
Summary: Posted for the 2010 "Music and Lyrics" challenge - inspired by the songsHigh Lonesome Soundby Vince Gill, with Alison Krauss and Union Station, and 1963'sIn Dreams, by Roy Orbison.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for the 2010 "Music and Lyrics" challenge - inspired by the songs _High Lonesome Sound_ by Vince Gill, with Alison Krauss and Union Station, and 1963's _In Dreams_ , by Roy Orbison.

The wind whipped through the trailer park, banging up against the metal sides of the trailer and pelting it with sand and gravel, as if by handfuls, and then the air would grow silent again. This was when he knew he should be getting up, during these few, quiet minutes alone and half-awake; but sometimes, he’d savor the time, if he had dreamt of him again. And when his old mind would let him, he’d fill in the blanks with memories he recalled of him, or sometimes he would dream up something new entirely, maybe about how their lives might have turned out if he was still here. And always, the closeness. But not how it had come to be that he was gone, not anymore.

If not then, then sometime. He wouldn’t push it, afraid that if he did, the dreams would stop coming. It almost seemed the dreams would come whenever Jack chose, and Ennis now anticipated them, impatient with the waiting for him when the dreams first began to come; but nowadays, without much complaint. This morning, the pillowcase was slightly damp where his cheek had lain. Other times, he could still feel the warmth from when their bodies had lain together.

Ennis sighed. He’d best be gettin' up, catch up with the day before it went on without him. And his daughter was going to be stopping by later today. Ennis willed his reluctant bones to move and sat on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes, then got up to make the coffee, turning on the burner, and from underneath the battered aluminum coffee percolator, the flame rose blue. He turned on the radio and static crackled into music.

Every day, the sound reminded him. No more blame.


End file.
